Alphabet Soup
by JoeNobody
Summary: Everyone else is doing the "One story per letter of the alphabet," so I might as well get in on the action. Many will be naughty, many will be funny, and almost always at the expense of our favorite couple. And two of them will be rather serious...
1. Damages

**Alphabet Soup**

_Like a lot of others, I've enjoyed the stories of series where people work their way through the alphabet, using a key word beginning with each letter as the theme of each part. It struck me as a fun little challenge, and toyed with the idea of doing it myself. And then I noticed that I kinda sorta had already done it - my four stories had inadvertently fallen into the pattern. "Dr. Temperance Brennan Engages In Sexual Intercourse" was "Analytical," "The Bones In Bones" was "Bet," and my "The Anthropologist In The Miniskirt"/"The Special Agent In The Leather Jacket" pairing was "Costumes."_

At that point, I almost had a moral obligation to continue. Especially since several words immediately sprang to mind that had tremendous potential for fun. One in particular will represent a huge challenge, but is just too damned tempting to not find a way to use.

_All of these will be fun, and occasionally a wee bit smutty, so I'm going to slap an "M" on the whole series. _

**Damages**

The wait to see the doctor had been interminable, and Booth had tried to leave several times, but Dr. Brennan had been insistent that he be checked out. "So, what happened, folks?"

Booth winced from the examining table. "Let's just call it an accidental fall."

Bones was having none of that. "Seeley, the doctor needs to know the full details in order to properly assess and treat your injuries." She turned to the doctor. "We were attempting the 'Suravati Lingupuram Shanayonput' position from page 208 of my edition of the Kama Sutra when my foot slipped on our satin sheets. I fell on top of him - my frontal bone striking him in the nose, my knee landing in his solar plexus, and my shin hitting his penis and testicles. He instinctively went into a protective fetal curl, which pulled both of us off the bed. In that fall, his occipital bone struck the nightstand and his left arm was trapped beneath both our bodies. Further, his right ankle was tangled in the sheets, putting considerable strain on his right hip."

The doctor paused briefly. "Let's stick with 'fall.'"

"Doctor, when do you think we will be able to resume sexual relations?"

Booth answered that one. "No sooner than 24 hours after you get rid of that book and those sheets!"

"Seeley, there's no need for that. I'm certain that if we switch to cotton sheets, or something else that offers superior traction, we will be fine. And we almost had the position - it would be a shame if we gave up after this little mishap."

Seeley lay back on the bed. "Doc, does this ER accept reservations?"


	2. Eulogy

**Eulogy**

"I... I can't believe she's gone." Seeley Booth said, dazed.

"It's all right, Seeley."

"We were together for so long, went through so much together. She was always there for me."

"Let it all out, Seeley."

"I just... I feel so guilty about it."

"It wasn't your fault. It was just one of those things that happens."

"But I should have known better. I should have known what I was doing. I should have been more careful. I should have picked up on the warning signs."

"There's no sense in blaming yourself. There's nothing you can do to change it now."

"But... what do I do now? How do I go on without her?"

Temperance Brennan put her arm around his shoulders. "It's OK, Seeley. It was just as much my fault, too. I'll buy you a new bed, and we can stay at my place until it's delivered."


	3. Flue

**Flue**

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat on the curb, clutching the borrowed coat around her shoulders.

"Bones, I gotta say, it was a hell of a sweet gesture."

She glared at him over the oxygen mask.

"I mean, it would have been awesome to come home to find you like that..."

The glare, if anything, doubled in ferocity.

"...on top of that bearskin rug... I know that was a big thing for you, an actual real bearskin rug, from an actual real bear..."

She closed her eyes. Maybe if she pretended to have passed out, he'd shut up. Or she'd wake up.

"...and in that new lingerie... I know you don't really care for it much..."

She sighed, and it triggered another coughing fit. He paused and held the mask tighter to her face. Once it passed, he resumed.

"...and in front of a roaring fire, all the other lights turned off... man, that would have been incredible."

She fixed her gaze on the fire truck's lights. She allowed herself to become totally lost in their flashing rhythms, finding the cycle in their madcap flashing and trying to synchronize her breathing to them. Shallow breaths seemed to help the most. Inhale on the left flashes, hold through the right, exhale on the left, hold on the right, repeat ad infinitum. Anything to tune out what Booth was saying.

"But in all the years you had that apartment, you never once actually used your fireplace? And you never bothered to read how to work the flue? You're lucky you didn't burn down the whole block!"

She sighed once more. It was going to be a very, very, very long time before she lived this one down.


	4. Grafenburg

**Grafenburg**

"Dammit, take the shot!" Seeley Booth shouted at the TV. This was not one of the Flyers' finest games - blown shots, bad passes, and a goalie who must have been Mr. Magoo under the mask. And seeing it on his big-screen TV just made the suckage even more painful. "Come on, you bums!"

Just then the game was interrupted by a yelp from the bedroom, followed by a very disturbing thud. And a strange hum that Booth couldn't recognize. He leaped up and raced to see what was going on.

There, in the bedroom, he found Temperance Brennan lying on the floor, flat on her back, next to the bed. She had a dazed look on her face, her legs were askew, and she was totally nude. And on the floor between her legs, buzzing frantically, was her favorite vibrator. It was lying on its side and spinning like the second hand on a clock. A thoroughly overwound one.

Booth scooped up the vibrator, switched it off, and tossed it on the bed. Then he knelt next to Temperance. "Bones, are you OK?"

She blinked a few times, but couldn't shake the vaguely glassy look in her eyes. "You were wrapped up in your game, and I was bored, so I came in here to masturbate before working on my novel. But something went wrong with my vibrator."

Booth scooped her up and gently placed her on the bed. "Um... yeah. About that..."

Her eyes cleared a bit, and narrowed in suspicion. "Do you know what might have happened to my vibrator, Booth?"

"Ah... remember that argument we had last week?"

"You'll have to be more specific. I recall six different ones."

"The one where you said I wouldn't know a Grafenburg Spot from a Van De Graff Generator?"

"Last Thursday, afternoon, at the sex shop. Yes, I remember that argument."

"Well, I took a few electrical engineering classes in high school, and I kinda took that personally. So I figured I'd show you I did know a bit about both, so I kinda rewired your toy there."

"Rewired it?"

"Well, souped it up a bit. Gave it a bit more power."

"Quite a bit more."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda went a bit Tim Allen there. Sorry."

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind. Anyway, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Do you want me to fix it, or just get you a new one?"

Bones carefully considered the matter. "Here's what we're going to do. First, you're going to go turn off the TV." Booth jumped up and ran back to the living room; it was really no great sacrifice. Then he returned to the bedroom. "OK, that's done."

"Next, you're going to take off your clothes, too." A wicked smile crept across her face. "And then we're going to find out just what this little toy can do..."


	5. Hygiene

_Author's note: when I started this series, I had no intention of making it all about sexual injuries, mishaps, and misadventures between our favorite quasi-couple. But after the first couple of ones, it just got away from me. _

_I've already got my plans for "I," as well as a few other letters lined up. But I'm always up for suggestions. Oddly enough, I asked a friend for help with H and I, and while he came up with his nominations, I came up with my own ones. So even if I don't use your words, it might trigger me into finding the ones I want._

**Hygiene**

Dr. Temperance Brennan lay on her side, curled into a tight ball. Her legs were pressed tightly together, with her hands firmly against her groin. She had a pillow pressed to her face. Seeley Booth stroked her back and shoulders, every gesture filled with remorse.

"Honey, I'm so sorry."

"Dnt cll mm tt."

"OK. Bones, I'm so sorry."

"Nt yr flt."

"I should have looked more carefully. I thought it was just another bottle of lotion or something."

"S'OK. Lemme lon."

"I mean, I know that its' flu season. And if anyone needs to take extra precautions all the time to avoid contamination, it's you and me. Especially you. So I should have been aware that you have these bottles of hand sanitizer everywhere."

"Ys."

"I mean, I'd never hurt you on purpose. And I can only imagine what it must have been like to have that alcohol-based gel rubbed... _there."_

With that, Bones slowly uncurled and turned to face him, her face stone. "No, you can't imagine. But I can think of one way you could find out..."


	6. Irritant

_Author's note: This ought to do with the sex accidents theme for at least a couple of letters. I'm going to use J and P to vent on some of my pet peeves with the show, and can't wait to get down to V and Y. I'm still open to suggestions on other letters..._

**Irritant**

Dr. Temperance Brennan, intent on scrubbing herself thoroughly, did not hear the door to the bathroom open. But she did hear the shower door open as a very familiar body crowded in against her. Fortunately, the familiarity asserted itself before the self-defense instinct.

"Seeley, get out of here!"

"Bones, I've been wanting to surprise you like this for years. To catch you in your shower in your office..."

"Booth, I told you this was singularly inappropriate. But even more than that..."

He nuzzled the back of her neck as he stroked her body and pressed against her. "Come on, Bones. Let yourself go a little. Give yourself permission to be naughty. Just relax and YIIIIII!"

Booth leaped back as if scalded. He crashed against the back wall of the shower stall. "Bones, I'm burning! I'm burning! What the hell is going on!"

She turned around. "And this is why I told you to never do this. I'm in the shower because I was contaminated with certain substances that are rather potent allergens. Fortunately, I'm largely immune to them, but obviously you're not."

Booth was rubbing his front frantically. "Bones what do I do! It feels like I've got a million ants running up and down me!"

"I have a reagent here, Booth, but first promise me you'll never try to surprise me in this shower ever again."

"Oh, god, don't worry! I never will again! Just give me the re-whatever - the antidote!"

She handed him a bottle, then stepped out of the shower. "Just rub this thoroughly over your front, let it stand for five minutes, rinse it off, then do it a second time - this time all over. Especially your hair."

"Thank you, Bones. I am so, so, so sorry... WHAT THE HELL?"

"Problem, Booth?"

"This is _Summer's__Eve,_ Bones! I'm supposed to wash myself off with a dou... feminine hygiene product?"

It's got the right reagents in the right proportions, Booth. But if it threatens your masculinity, feel free to continue to enjoy your contamination..."

"Oh, god..."

"And please hurry. I need to finish my shower. I'm not as allergic as you are, but it's still an unpleasant sensation." She paused. "Unless you'd care for me to join you..."

"NO! I mean... I think I'd better focus on what I'm doing here."

She smiled. "Glad to see you can learn your lessons, Booth."


	7. Jurisdiction

**Jurisdiction**

Booth and Bones were just finishing their dinner - a quiet one at home, for a change - when his cell phone rang.

"Booth."

"Oh, good, cher. Is that bone doctor of yours there?"'

"Yeah, she is." He covered the mouthpiece. _"It's__Caroline."_ What's up?"

"Put me on speaker - this is for the both of you."

"No problem." He hit the speaker button, then set the phone on the table. "You're on speaker."

"Hello, Caroline."

"First up, I'm glad you two have no special plans for this weekend."

Booth and Bones looked at each other, surprised. Bones recovered her wits first. "Actually, Caroline, we..."

"As I said, _I'm__glad__you__two__have__no__special__plans__for__this__weekend,_ because the three of us are going to be spending it in my offices."

"Huh? What the hell is going on?"

"Do you remember the Amber Flaire case? The high school girl who burned up the guy in the pickup?"

"Yeah? What about it? Bones nailed her guilt, and we got a confession."

"It seems she got herself a very smart lawyer, and he's asking some very smart questions. Questions like why was the FBI taking the lead on an admittedly odd but otherwise perfectly normal murder case."

Booth was dazed. "But Bones and I, we've worked a lot of cases like that."

"And that's the problem, cher. The law is clear - the FBI only has primary jurisdiction in very specific cases. Otherwise, you can only come in as consultants. And you two have been tap-dancing all over that line for years."

"And that's a problem."

"You bet it is. And that's why I am giving up my weekend to spend it with you two as we first figure out just how to save that case. And then we're going to go over every other case you've worked and figured out just how we can justify the FBI taking the lead in it. In fact, you might want to clear your next few weekends, too."

Bones spoke up. "Caroline, I can understand the problem, but..."

"Good, I'm glad you understand it. Now both of you, be in my office at 9 sharp. If you want to try to buy my forgiveness, bring coffee and doughnuts. We're going to need it." And with that, she hung up.


	8. Kobayashi Maru

_Author's note: this one is not smutty, nor nit-picking. The term just popped into my head, and I **had** to find a way to make it work. Or, at least, come close to working._

**Kobayashi Maru**

Dr. Sweets leaned back in his chair. "Last time we got together, Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, I asked you to really think about why you resent these sessions. I asked you, Dr. Brennan, to get past your disdain for what you call 'the softer sciences' and contempt for psychology, and you, Agent Booth, your resistance to being dictated to and controlled. Have you drawn any new conclusions?"

Dr. Brennan was the first to answer. "Yes. I find I also resent the time taken away from my work. Not only the time in these sessions, but the time and focus it takes when you give us these extraneous exercises."

Lance sighed. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan. And you, Agent Booth?

Seeley leaned back, assuming an uncharacteristically thoughtful pose. (Sweet was under no illusions about Booth's intellectual prowess, but he usually went to some lengths to conceal it - he found it very useful to be underestimated.) Yes, I have, Sweets - but you're not going to like it."

"It's not my place to 'like' or 'dislike' anything, Agent Booth. It's to assess how the relationship between you to can best benefit the FBI. So please, go ahead."

Booth folded his hands together. "Well, Sweets, I've noticed for some time two factors. The first is, the closer Bones and I get, the more effective we are as a team. Second, the closer Bones and I get, the more carefully we get scrutinized. And I have to say, I don't care for it."

"Why not?" Sweets said, intrigued.

"Because it seems like we're being punished for being so effective. It's no secret neither of us enjoys or appreciates these sessions, and yet we are compelled to show up here. If the Bureau really appreciated our efforts, I'd think they'd reward us by cutting us a bit more slack. I almost wonder if they are doing this just to see how much we will put up with."

"So, do you think that if you two didn't do such good work, they might ease up on you?"

"That's not a possibility, Sweets. For one, neither of us would ever do anything that would represent less than our best efforts."

"Especially me," Bones interrupted. "I have far, far too much invested in my professional reputation."

Booth turned on the couch. "Now that's where we disagree, Bones. If you severed your relationship with the FBI, you'd still have your work at the Jeffersonian and your books. On the other hand, the FBI is all I have, professionally. So I have more, personally, to lose."

Sweets saw antoher argument brewing, and stepped in. "I don't think it's important to discuss who has more to lose; you both have a lot, and neither of you would do it anyway. But what I think you're saying, Agent Booth, is that you're in a Kobayashi Maru scenario."

"I don't know what that means."

Booth scowled. "I do. It's one of his nerdy references. That's from Star Trek, right?"

Sweets winced. "Yes. It's from one of the Star Trek movies. It's a scenario that cadets are placed in - a training exercise where there is no winning solution. No matter what they do to save their ship and their crew, they fail."

Bones frowned. "That seems singularly pointless, and perhaps a bit sadistic."

"No, no, it's actually a valid exercise. The test isn't to see how they find a solution, but how they deal with failure and defeat. It gives insights into their thought processes, their character, how they respond to losing."

Bones nodded. "I can see the value in that. So, you're saying that the Bureau is somehow attempting to sabotage our relationship - working or personal, or both - in an attempt to somehow determine something about us?"

Sweets shook his head. "No, no I'm not."

Booth almost snarled his own response. "You might not, but I'm starting to wonder if I should say that."

"No, I assure you, the last thing the Bureau wants is to interfere with the outstanding work you two do. What they want, actually, is to not only preserve what you two do, but maybe learn what makes you work together so well, so they can maybe use it with other people."

"So, essentially, they want to dissect our relationship and try to figure out the magic formula so they can turn out a bunch more me and Bones teams?"

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, but you have to admit that it would be a good thing if they had a few more teams as effective as you two. For one, it would take some of the burden off you two. For another, there are a lot of cases that you simply don't have the time for."

"Dr. Sweets, as a scientist, I can appreciate the theory behind what you propose, but I have to agree with Booth. This current method runs the risk of being a rather destructive form of analysis, and runs the risk of impairing our efficiency."

"That is one of my top priorities, Dr. Brennan. I have had it explained in great detail of how important the Bureau views your work, and how unpleasant things could get for me if I were to impair that in any way. And I have to balance that against my own obligations to you two to not cause problems with the... non-case-related aspects of your relationship."

"You haven't always done such a great job on that, Sweets."

Sweets sighed. "I know, Agent Booth. And believe me, I regret those times tremendously. The question is, though - now that you've looked at these issues you have with these sessions, and we've discussed them, do you think you can continue them, or should we look at alternatives?"

Booth's lips tightened. "'Alternatives' like splitting us up? I don't think so, Sweets."

"That would be totally irrational, Dr. Sweets. At no point has our relationship ever even come close to adversely affecting a case."

"Setting aside the time your father was being tried for murdering a Bureau Deputy Director, of course."

There was a long pause, as Booth and Bones exchanged a quick glance. "Those were... unique circumstances. Further, we were never formally assigned to that case." Bones answered.

"Still, you two both agree that regardless of the results, the Bureau is certainly justified in wanting to pay very close attention to your relationship - especially considering how it might affect the cases you handle. And especially considering how important and high-profile those cases tend to be."

Booth settled back. "But we don't have to like it."

"Agreed."

Bones put on her scholarly face. "If what makes us so effective can be determined and applied to others, it would be quite advantageous."

"Exactly!" Sweets restrained himself from a celebratary fist-pump.

"But that presumes that those aspects are not unique to us, but are something that can be replicated. An essential part of our success is my professional skill and knowledge. Quite frankly, the chances of the FBI finding someone of my abilities in such a relevant field is virtually nonexistent."

"Yeah, Sweets. And my own background - both in the Bureau and in the Army - also make me uniquely qualified as well."

Bones turned to face him again. "That's not necessarily true. Quite a few FBI agents have backgrounds in the military - you've told me yourself. You've even said there are sports teams within the Bureau based on past military affiliations."

"Yeah, but Bones.."

"The most relevant parts of your background are derived from your associations with the Jeffersonian, Booth. You've learned an appreciation for the scientific method, as well as how to best work with and obtain the best results from our team of experts."

"Well, I'd not say all of them..."

"Ahem, if I can interrupt here, folks..."

They both turned back towards Sweets. "So, can we agree that while it might not be the most pleasant experience, the continuation of these sessions - and the other aspects of our relationship - can continue for the foreseeable future?"

Booth and Brennan exchanged another of those glances that Sweets had come to despise. He knew that in a few seconds, they had had the equivalent of a half-hour - or longer - discussion for most people. Then the turned back to him and nodded.

BB BB BB BB BB

Booth held the door for Bones as they left the building. "Well, that actually went better than I expected."

"I agree." As they reached his vehicle, she asked him one final question. "At what point should we tell him I'm pregnant with your child?"


	9. Lesbian

**Lesbian**

"Booth, will you stop staring at those women over there?"

Seeley started, surprised at being so easily caught. "Sorry, Bones. It's a guy thing. We just can't help ourselves."

"I've seen you around many attractive women, and you've never been so blatant. Most women would find it insulting, and even I am starting to get annoyed. What is it about them?" She took a moment to watch them herself - far more discreetly, of course. "Is it because they're so demonstratively lesbian?"

Booth still wasn't used to his partner's utter candor. "Um... well, yeah, Bones. Like I said, it's a guy thing."

"I've been aware of the typical heterosexual male's fascination with lesbians, Booth, but I've never understood it. Perhaps you should explain it to me."

"Here? Now? Bones, I really don't think..."

"Here and now is where my curiousity is roused, and it obviously is on your mind, too. So you can explain it to me, or I'll go over to their table, introduce myself, and ask them to explain it, as you are refusing."

Booth started sweating. He had learned that in situations like this, Bones didn't bluff. She was more than capable of introducing herself to the couple, explaining both his behavior and refusal do discuss it (including pointing him out and probably identifying him by name and position), and ask them about what he didn't want to discuss.

"Um... can we wait until after we get our food? That way we won't be interrupted."

Bones considered the matter. "I believe that you're simply stalling, but I'm willing to let that pass. Very well."

After their food arrived (Booth giving silent thanks that her vegan diet precluded her from ordering sushi; he didn't think he could have handled that with a straight face, and he had enough to explain), she took a few bites and spoke. "OK, Booth. We have our food. Start talking." 

"Well, geez, Bones... it's like this. When we see gay women, especially attractive ones, we can't help but think of two beautiful women, naked, getting all down to business..."

Bones nodded. "I see. As men are primarily aroused by visual stimuli, the presence of two or more nude women engaging in sexual activity would be quite stimulating. And that would tend to preclude any further thoughts that would, logically, detract from the arousing factor."

"Huh? What further thoughts?"

Bones smiled condescendingly. "Think about it, Booth. You're fantasizing about women who have rejected your viability as a sexual partner - not personally, but as an entire gender. You are entertaining thoughts that have no chance of ever coming true. Indeed, if you were to approach them in an attempt to fulfill your fantasy, you'd be fortunate to escape with simply being laughed at."

"Every man likes to think that he could be the exception, Bones, the guy who could convert them back to liking guys."

At that, Bones couldn't contain her laughter. "That is so totally ridiculous! For one, 'convert them back?' That presumes that they were heterosexual at one point, and most studies indicate that sexual identity is fixed at an early age. For another, what could a man possibly bring to a confirmed lesbian that she could possibly desire?"

"Now, wait a minute, Bones..."

"No, let me continue. Sexually speaking, the male brings exactly two things to an encounter that a woman lacks - a penis, and sperm. As far as the penis is concerned, that is readily replaced - all through history, phallic sex toys have been far more common than substitute vaginas. Which is not surprising, as the penis is far more easily replicated. And as far as sperm goes, reproductive technology worked out in vitro fertilization and other techniques that make the physical presence of a male unnecessary."

"Geez, Bones, can you keep it down?" Booth winced and glanced around to see if anyone was staring. Especially the hot lesbians three tables away. "If you're gonna talk like that, don't use your lecture voice."

Bones sighed. "It's hardly my fault that the vast majority of people have utterly unreasonable inhibitions towards basic human functions, Booth."

"Yeah, Bones, but when in Rome..."

"We're not in Rome. We're in Georgetown."

Booth sighed, but saw a chance to change the topic on her. "Old saying. 'When in Rome, do as Romans do."

She nodded. "I see. You are saying that one should accede to local norms and proprieties. In this case, open discussion of sexuality in public is frowned upon, and I should respect others' beliefs and not violate the social taboos."

He smiled. "Exactly."

"Even though those beliefs are utterly absurd and pointless?"

Booth's smile faded. "Yes, Bones. Even then. Sometimes, especially then."

She cocked an eyebrow. "At some point, you will explain the 'especially' part. But for now, we should finish the prior discussion. The typical heterosexual male fixation on lesbians is totally irrational and founded in a complete misunderstanding of female sexuality, especially that of gay women."

"Yup. Just like you said before - 'absurd and pointless.' But," and he discreetly gestured towards his groin, _"eppur__se__muove."_

Bones was taken aback for a moment, dropping her fork, then gave a delighted grin. "Booth! I am very impressed! I would never expect a remark like that from you!"

Booth smiled. Every now and then, he loved reminding her that while he spent most of his time downplaying his intellectual gifts, he was far from stupid. "And why would that be?"

Bones picked up her fork, waving around a bit of salad for emphasis.. "For one, it's a quote from Galileo, after his conviction for arguing that the Earth revolved around the Sun, not the other way around. For another, he had just been convicted by the Catholic Church, and you are a devout Catholic. And for a third, you pronounced the Latin perfectly. And finally, you publicly made a sexual innuendo in public, which you almost never do."

"Sometimes, Bones, it's fun to be the one who gives the shocks in public, and not always the one who receives them."

"Duly noted." She swallowed her forkful of salad, then resumed. "So, are we agreed that the heterosexual male fixation with lesbians is absurd and ridiculous and pointless?"

Booth sighed. "Yes, Bones. I think you've effectively killed every lesbian fantasy I've ever had."

"That's too bad. I suppose I'll have to forget about the threesome I was considering for your birthday now..."

Fortunately for Booth, Bones was exceptionally proficient at the Heimlich maneuver.


	10. Methodology

**Methodology**

"Come on, Bones, come to bed, will ya?"

"Booth, I told you when you insisted that we get this television that there would be times that I would insist on watching certain programs. And this is one of those times."

"But I had a really bad day, and I've been missing you all day."

"If it's my presence that you desire, then feel free to join me here. But try not to interrupt the program too much."

Booth sighed and plopped down on the couch next to her. He might as well see who he was playing second fiddle to this time. She promptly snuggled up next to him, but he could tell that most of her attention remained on the big-screen TV. "Oh, these guys! This is a pretty good show."

"Yes, it is. Dr. Hodgins told me that I would most likely appreciate this show, especially when they address legends regarding the human body, and he was correct."

"And is this one of those episodes?"

"Yes, it involves decapitation. You know, Booth, for non-scientists, and given the dramatic and technical constraints of the television medium, the methodology of this program is quite remarkable. I can see why Dr. Hodgins recommended them."

"Non-scientists, Bones? They seem pretty scientific to me."

"I did some checking. The bald one with the large mustache has two Doctorates in engineering, but both are honorary degrees. He only holds a Bachelor's, and that's in Russian. The more excitable one, with the receding reddish hair, also has an honorary degree, but apart from that he's an art school dropout."

Booth was impressed. "That's high praise from you, Bones. Usually, you're far more concerned with credentials."

"Yes, I am. But it is also a scientific truism that reality always trumps theory, and these two have exceptional practical skills and knowledge and experiences that they apply to theory in quite thorough fashion."

"Maybe you ought to see if you can visit the show, maybe even do a guest appearance on it. Or invite them to the Jeffersonian, maybe shoot an episode there."

Bones pulled back to look him in the eye. "Booth, that would be singularly inappropriate. The Jeffersonian is a government-funded scientific institute, and should not be used for popular entertainment."

"Talk it over with Cam. She might see the appeal - raising the profile of the scientific aspect of the Institute, and not just the museum part, might be a good way to increase support and funding. After all, the show would be some great PR."

"Even if Cam approved - and I doubt she would - I have no way to get in touch with the show's producers. They have no reason to take my calls or e-mails."

"Oh, so you need an in? No problem there. I'd be willing to bet that Dr. Benson Jude The Science Dude knows them, and would put in a good word for you."

Bones considered that. "My appearance on that show was rather enjoyable, and I believe beneficial to the Institute, the viewers of the program, and my own personal standing. Perhaps it would be worth at least opening contact."

"Yeah, sure, Bones. Go for it... hey, is that a pig carcass?"

"In many ways, the pig is a superb analogue for the human body. Do you recall the time Dr. Hodgins and Zach fed one into a wood chipper?"

"I remember hearing about that."

"Sometimes they use pigs, sometimes they use actual bones suspended in specially-cast ballistic gel. In this case, I think the pig is the more accurate option."

"You know, Booth, that woman reminds me a bit of Angela."

"Really? I don't see it."

"No, not physically. But they're both artists who bring their artistic skills and sensibilities to the pursuit of science."

"I see what you mean. And those two guys - which one's Hodgins?"

"There are elements of him in both. The Asian one has his intellect, while the taller one has the adventurous attitude."

"And that would make us..."

"I'm definitely the bald one, Booth. He's more intellectual and restrained, while the red-headed one is more emotionally driven and relies more on instinct - so he's you."

"And Cam would be..."

Bones considered. "The director, or perhaps the narrator. Someone we never see on screen." Just then, the decapatiation investigation began. "Now hush. This could be quite educational."

Booth settled back on the couch, and Bones snuggled back against him. "Now hush, Booth. They're starting the analysis."

Booth found his ardor was significantly dampened. Oh, well. Things could be worse... and maybe, just maybe, he might get some autographs for Parker if Bones did get to work with the guys...


	11. Nudity

**Nudity**

"Geez, Bones, are you sure we can trust Hodgins here?"

"What do you mean, Booth?"

"You sure this isn't some kind of sick joke of his, sending us here of all places?"

"Booth, his analysis was impeccable. Between the plant matter, the bird droppings, and the composition of the sand, this is the only beach within 400 miles that the suspect could have visited. And while Hodgins is technically capable of falsifying such tests should he choose to, I reject that on two grounds."

"Which are..."

"First, we are not simply trying to solve a crime, but catch a fleeing murderer. Hodgins' sense of duty and responsibility would not let him subvert that pursuit for a simple joke. Second, he did not have the time to perpetrate such an elaborate hoax."

"OK, fine. But why us?"

"According to the surveillance video, the suspect suffered a very specific injury to his left hip, meaning that his gait will be impaired in a highly distinctive manner and he will have very specific bruising that I doubt anyone else would recognize. Further, while we have no images of his face, he has rather unusual ratios of shin-to-thigh and forearm-to-bicep lengths that I should have no trouble spotting. In fact, his presence on this nude beach should make identification even easier. And if I have to be here, you've made it clear on countless occasions that you will not tolerate me operating in the field alone or with any other agent if you're available."

"Fine, Bones... but at least it's technically a 'clothing-optional' beach," he said, shucking his outer clothing and revealing a very baggy pair of swim trunks. "Otherwise, I don't know what I'd do with my badge and... WHOA!"

Dr. Brennan had been shedding her outer clothing as well, but she hadn't stopped there. She was just finishing putting her clothing in a duffel bag and zipping it closed. All of it, save a pair of sandals and a towel draped over her forearm. Neither covered up much.

She looked up to see Booth staring at her, turning bright red - then he guiltily whipped his head away. "Bones, you're naked!"

She glanced down at herself for a second. "In this context, the proper term is 'nude.' Naturists reject the term 'naked,' as they say it has connotations of shame that they discourage. If we were preparing to engage in certain pagan rituals, the term would be 'sky-clad,' and if..." 

"Yeah, yeah, Bones, whatever. That all means the same thing - you're standing right here with absolutely nothing on."

Bones sighed. She'd been afraid of this, and hoped this wouldn't have been necessary. "Booth, look at me." 

"Bones..."

"Seeley Joseth Booth, LOOK AT ME!" He hated when she used that tone. It reminded him half of his worst drill sergeant, half of his mother. He slowly turned and forced himself to look her in the eye. Only at her eyes.

"Booth, very shortly you and I are going to walk down this beach. We are going to walk the full length of this beach if necessary, and back, and repeat that several times until we either find the suspect or are convinced he's not here. We are going to be surrounded by experienced nudists, all of whom are very proficient at spotting non-nudists and will all be nude. We already stand out enough with our lack of all-over tans; if we add in you gawking at all the women, glaring at all the men, and sneaking peeks at me we will never find the suspect."

Booth had to admit that she made a lot of sense.

"So, Booth, look at me. Look at me all over, for as long as necessary. I am not ashamed of my body; in fact, I am quite proud of it. You will not shame me. I have a woman's body, and you are quite familiar with women's bodies; I have nothing unusual or distinct from any of the other women you've seen nude in the past. I need you to get as comfortable with my nude appearance as possible, so we can blend in as well as possible with the people on this beach, and not stick out like injured thumbs."

"Sore thumbs."

"Whatever, Booth. Just get it over with; I'm not moving from your SUV until I am convinced you can actually focus on our job here."

Bones was impossible to argue with at times like this. Slowly running through the names of saints, he forced his eyes down from her expectant face and slowly panned down her body. For the last few years he'd caught him fantasizing about what she looked like under her clothing, and his imagination had been seriously deficient. And her slow pirhouette certainly didn't help. But the sheer clinical nature of the situation and her detached, slightly annoyed attitude helped dampen his ardor.

Dampen, but not much. "Feel free to adjust your erection as necessary, Booth. I presume that is why you wore your baggiest swimwear."

"Bones, dammit!" he protested, but complied.

"It's a perfectly normal reaction, Booth. In other circumstances, I'd be flattered. But here and now, you need to get past that reflex. Perhaps you should mas..."

"No, thank you, Bones. I can control myself adequately."

"It's a perfectly normal act, Booth - despite what your antiquated religious beliefs say. And in these circumstances, it would actually be appropriate, as it would not be in puruit of personal gratification, but in furtherance of your duty and serving a greater good."

"I told you, Booth, I am not doing that here. Not even for God and country."

"If you prefer, I could offer you some assistance in the matter. I have been told that I am quite talented in relieving that condition in a variety of ways..."

Booth finally caught on. It wasn't often that Bones actively teased him, especially so well and in this way, but he'd picked up on enough of her tells. And, he noted, it was having its desired effect. Her aggression, in this context, had embarrassed him enough to cool his passions. "OK, Bones, knock it off. It worked. I think I'm about ready for this. But if we don't nail this guy, I'm going to shoot Hodgins."

Bones rewarded him with a proud smile. "Excellent, Booth. Now we need to do one last thing..."

He turned and reached for the hatch of his SUV to close it up. "What's that?"

As he reached up, Bones stepped up and yanked his trunks to his ankles.


	12. Orgasm

**Orgasm**

"Bones, we need to talk."

"What's the problem, Booth?"

"I just got done talking with Parker. He told me all about your little chat."

"I don't see the problem here. He had a problem in his Science class, he came to me, I determined that the problem was scientific in nature, and helped him resolve it. Why is that an issue?"

Booth sighed. "Bones, he didn't 'accidentally' say 'orgasm' instead of 'organism' in class. He did it on purpose, because he was dared to and thought it would be funny and embarrass the teacher."

"Why would he do that?"

"It's practically a rite of passage for kids that age. It's supposed to get the entire class giggling and, if you're lucky, the teacher turns red. And that's it."

"Oh."

"It's certainly not expected to get your stepmother to give you a half-hour lecture on the full, scientific definitions of both, including anatomy, physiology, evolutionary and cultural significance, and diagrams."

"I... see."

"Let me repeat this, Bones: if Parker has any questions for you about sex, you should leave that to me or Rebecca. Even if he comes to you in confidence, tell me about it and I'll help you steer him right. Agreed?"

Bones nodded. "Agreed." And she made a mental note to cancel that order she'd placed for certain educational materials...

_**Author's****Note:**Suggestive title: check. Bait and switch in text? Check. Healthy dose of humor: check. Sex-related awkwardness: check. OK, if this one doesn't generate some comments/reviews, I dunno what will..._


	13. Product Placement

**Product Placement**

_Author's note: Here's the first of the two parts I originally planned out before I started. For the rest, I'm just winging it._

Booth slid into the passenger seat - and not comfortably. "New wheels, Bones?" 

"Yes, and I am quite impressed with this vehicle's efficiency."

"Efficiency? That's a rather unusual form of praise. Well, not from you, but still..."

Bones glanced at him. "This gets superb mileage - here, the display shows the current mileage." The screen flashed a quick "51.1" at the press of a button. "The ergonomics are excellent, the visibility is good, and the internal volume is exceptionally well allotted. Plus, it has received very high safety ratings in the crash tests."

"Yeah, but Bones... it's an economy car. You're... well, loaded."

"Yes, Booth, I am quite financially secure. But that doesn't mean I don't want to reduce my carbon footprint and spare the environment."

"And that's why you gave up that Mercedes your publisher gave you?"

"Well, it was five years old... and it had that big ding in the passenger door..."

"Bones, I looked it up. That car cost a hundred grand, new. And it was in great shape. And plus... it was a Benz!"

"I did enjoy that car, even after you got me to stop parking it diagonally and it started accumulating various dings."

"Then why did you get rid of it?"

She thought for a moment. "I really don't know... but it does raise a question of my own."

Uh-oh. Booth started sweating. "And that would be..."

"What happened to your Tahoe? You were so fond and proud of that vehicle. At some times, it almost seemed like you saw it as an extension of your..."

"Let's stop that right there, Bones. I do not need to extend anything. Period."

"Anyway, as I was saying, you were quite fond of your Tahoe. And now you drive a Highlander."

"It's Bureau-issue, Bones. I didn't make the call; they just replaced it on me."

"Isn't that unusual, Booth? It's my understanding that, for political reasons, the federal government buys domestic vehicles almost exclusively. I find that foolish, but consistent. And especially in light of the federal bailout of General Motors, I find it inconceivable that they would replace your Chevrolet with a Japanese vehicle. Even one as high-quality as your Highlander."

Booth pondered that for a moment. "Yeah, I hadn't really thought about it before, but now that doesn't make much sense. I mean, the Highlander has great off-road capabilities, an awesome towing capacity, seats for up to seven, room for all my gear, and outstanding performance and mileage for its class."

"You sound like an advertising brochure, Booth."

Booth winced. "You mean, I sound like you when you talk about your Prius? Or Angela about her Prius?"

"That is disturbingly true. Angela has a very wealthy father, and now that she's married to Hodgins is even wealthier. She could have any vehicle she wishes, and there are far more suitable vehicles for her lifestyle and hobbies than a Prius."

"It's almost like there's some outside, guiding force that is compelling all of us to get Toyotas, and to talk about them in glowing terms at odd occasions."

"That's ridiculous, Booth. I don't believe in the supernatural, and it would take a supernatural force to exert that kind of control over the three of us."

There was a long lull in the conversation. "So, Bones, did you at least get a good trade-in on the Benz?"

Bones lit up. "Oh, my local Toyota dealer was exceptionally fair and considerate. He showed me the standard records for how much it was worth in its current condition, explained how the downturn in the economy had unfairly diminished the market for high-end luxury vehicles with mediocre mileage, but still made me a very reasonable offer for the car. And he also pointed out how impractical a car with only two seats would be should I go ahead and have a child, while the Prius is very accomodating for children's safety seats in the rear. Along with a generous cargo area for all the paraphernalia that is essential in transporting children around..."


	14. Quarrel

**Quarrel**

Booth held Bones' hand tightly as she lay face-down on the stretcher. "I swear I'm going to kill Hodgins this time."

"Calm down, Booth. I'll be all right, and it was an accident."

"What I'll do to him won't be an accident. He could have killed you!"

"But he didn't, and Cam is going to deal with him most strictly. And then once she's done disciplining him professionally, Angela will be dealing with him personally. I anticipate that the next time I see Dr. Hodgins, he will be extremely contrite and far, far more cautious in his experiments in the future. And I will be more cautious whenever he is conducting those experiments."

"Bones, he shot you."

"It was accidental."

"Bones, he shot you with a crossbow."

"It was a valid experiment, in attempting to recreate the cause of death in our case. He just didn't use a strong enough backstop, nor did he secure the weapon properly to keep it trained on target."

"Bones, he shot you in the ass with a crossbow."

"It's strictly a superficial wound. There was not penetrative trauma, just a surface laceration. A very uncomfortable and inconvenient one, as well as painful, but I anticipate a full recovery in short order, with minimal scarring."

Booth sighed. "Bones... you gotta understand. I now have a very personal and proprietary interest in your well-being. Especially when it comes to your... well, that area. And not only will I not be able to touch that... area... while you're recovering, I'll never be able to see that scar without thinking about Hodgins - and how he almost killed you."

Bones scoffed. "Please, Booth. This was nowhere near a life-threatening injury."

Booth's face got grim. "Bones, don't get superior on me here. I was in Afghanistan, remember? I saw several men get shot in the ass - and die from it. Depending on the angle of the shot, there are a lot of very important organs and blood vessels that can be hit. You got damned lucky. Admit it."

After a pause, she nodded. "You are correct. I've examined several remains where the cause of death was a wound to the buttocks. It's rare, but it's hardly unheard of."

"And that's why I'm going to shoot Hodgins in HIS ass."

"No, you're not, Booth. My wounding was an accident; his would be deliberate."

"And why does that matter?"

"Because I would greatly miss you while you were in jail. And even if you weren't jailed, it would cost you your job, and we would no longer work together. So stop all this talk of shooting Hodgins. All it achieves is to make me think of not having you in my life, and I do not like that thought."

Booth sighed. "All right. But under one condition - we don't tell Hodgins that he's physically safe any time soon."

Bones chuckled, then winced with the pain. "I think that's more than reasonable. Besides, from what Angela said, it would be more accurate to say 'physically safe from you.' In her own way, she's as protective of me as you are - and has far greater access to Hodgins." Then she had her own thought. "However, it might be entertaining to notify Hodgins that we are considering a lawsuit for damages. As I expect that our sexual activities will be constrained for at least the next few weeks, the phrase 'loss of consortium' ought to make him quite nervous. And having to be around us when we are suffering from a great deal of sexual frustration - and blaming him - should be most satisfactory - in a vindictive sense."

Booth found himself smiling. As satisfying as it would be to plug a hole in Hodgins' ass to match the one in Bones', the thought of making him sweat and squirm over several weeks - or longer - had even more appeal.

"Fine, Bones. We'll handle it your way. He then smiled seductively. "And about that frustration angle - I think I can hold up, but if there's anything I can do that might help take your mind off the pain and help you feel better..."

Bones smiled back. "I already have a few ideas involving certain activities and positions and options that should minimize stress on my wound, while still allowing a degree of mutual gratification..."

As Bones licked her lips, Booth realized that while he was still furious with Hodgins, the recovery period could prove to be quite an adventure...


	15. Roxy

**Roxie**

Another Halloween, another argument...

"Come on, Booth, it only makes sense. Last year, you set me up with that 'Space Trek' outfit for the Jeffersonian's Halloween party, and I got even with that silly vampire suit for the FBI's party. This year, we just go as a couple to both parties, in complementary costumes, and avoid the trouble."

"It's 'Star Trek,' Bones."

"Whatever."

"And I don't want to go to some party as Raggedy Andy or Clyde or the rear end of a horse. I just want to be something cool."

Bones suddenly gave him a big smile. "Then that shouldn't be a problem at all. I was planning that we resurrect our 'Tony and Roxie' personae from that case in Las Vegas."

Booth gave her back an equally broad grin. She'd looked fantastic in that little black dress, and he had really enjoyed playing 'Tony The Tiger' Scallion. Yeah, this could be the best Halloween ever...

BB BB BB BB BB

Hodgins sidled up next to Booth at the party, clad in his leather jacket and fedora. (Angela had vetoed the whip.) Across the room, he could see Angela (in her Lara Croft outfit) chatting enthusiastically with Bones. Apparently Booth and Bones weren't the only ones who'd gone for matching outfits. "Man, I gotta tell you, you look GREAT in that outfit. It takes real brass ones to pull that off, dude." He glanced down. "And I can almost see them."

"Hodgins, I swear to God, I will shoot you if you say one more word."

Hodgins just laughed. "Shoot me? You actually think I'll believe you're carrying a gun in that getup?" He laughed and ambled off to the refreshments.

Just then, Bones looked up and spotted him. "Hey, baby! Lookin' good tonight!" Bones sauntered across the room to Booth. "How's my favorite girl?" She grabbed his ass through the incredibly short dress.

Booth sighed. It was a good thing she'd insisted he leave his gun locked in the car, or he'd have to shoot everyone here...


	16. Sand

_Sorry for the delay; I was really, really stuck on this one. Any suggestions for T? _

**Sand**

_This is a followup to "Nudity."_

"All right, Booth, this is how we'll play this. I'll walk down the beach, looking for the suspect. You trail behind me, at least 20 meters back. When I think I identify him, I'll point down to the ground with one finger. If I'm sure, I'll point with two fingers. I'll go past him a ways, then sit down on the beach. You'll come up next to me, I'll point him out, then you come back for your gun, badge, and cuffs. I'll stay and keep an eye on him, and if he looks like he might leave, I'll distract him. Got it?"

Booth was so irritated at Bones taking charge like this that he forgot she was totally nude - and his own swimsuit was around his ankles. "Hang on a minute. In case you didn't notice, this isn't the lab, this is out in the field. And that means that I'm in charge."

Bones glared right back at him. "Normally, that would apply. But these are extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?"

"For one, you have no chance on your own to identify the suspect, and I do. For another, you've never been to a nude beach before, while I have, so this time I know how to behave and you are totally out of your depth. Finally," she smiled, "of all the times you've told me you 'have my back,' can you think of any circumstances where you will enjoy it more?"

Booth started to blush again. "But... if he starts to leave, what will you do?"

Bones merely cocked her eyebrow. "I don't care how dedicated a nudist he might be, he's still a man. And I am a very attractive woman. So unless he's homosexual - a slight possibility, but one I do acknowledge - I believe I can command his attention at least long enough for you to return and make the arrest."

Bones had her points, Booth realized. In addition to the two excellent ones he'd tried like hell not to notice. He didn't like her taking the lead, but in this case it made sense. And dammit, she was right about him enjoying "covering her back" down the beach. "OK, Bones, we'll play it your way."

By the time they were two-thirds down the beach, Bones had indicated four suspects, but had shaken off two of them. And Booth's memory was overflowing with the sight of her casual strolling pace. She was definitely enjoying her power over him - as a long-time conoisseur of the female gait (especially hers), he could tell she was adding just a little extra sashay to her walk. Further, she was using her left hand (the ocean side) to flash him signals, and she kept her hand close to her hip - so he had little choice but to properly enjoy the view.

Then he caught the signal. Two fingers, in an inverted "V." To make certain he caught it, she flashed it three times. Then, another 20 or so yards down the beach, she sat down on her towel, looking out to sea.

Booth walked past, then casually flopped next to her. "OK, who's our boy?"

Bones' gaze never left the water. "22 meters back, three meters behind. White male, mid-thirties. Receding brown hair, sunglasses, moderate body hair, tan lines around the pelvis - not as pronounced as yours, but noticeable. He's lying on a Dallas Cowboys towel."

"Cowboys fan? I'd like to bust him just on that alone."

"Do you see him?" Booth had carefully positioned himself to Bones' right and slightly ahead of her, allowing him to look past her towards the suspect.

"I think so. Kind of a medium brown hair, long in the back?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, I got him. How sure are you?"

"Without a proper examination, I can't be sure, and I couldn't exactly stare, but he is exceptionally consistent with what we know. The bruising on his hip is almost textbook for the injury we saw on the video, and the arm and leg proportions are definitely within the ballpark. I wouldn't swear to it under oath, but I am more than comfortable with you arresting him as a suspect."

"OK, then. I'll wait here a moment or two longer, then go get my gear."

"Booth gave him one of her all-too-rare knowing smiles. "Enjoying yourself, Booth?"

He couldn't help but smile back. "This has certainly been one of the most... enjoyable bits of field work I've ever been on." He glanced away, then gave a quick shudder. "On second thought..."

Bones glanced to see what had dampened his enthusiasm. "You shouldn't be so judgmental, Booth. In certain cultures, men of great stature were often exceptionally large, often to the point of morbid obesity." She then paused. "But like you, I concur with our own social norms on aesthetics... and he is also incredibly unhealthy."

Booth shook his head. "I'd always heard that most of the people who go to nudist resorts are the type you don't want to see naked, but I'd never quite believed it... until now." He slowly stood up, leaving his towel behind. "I'll be right back."

As he ambled off, Bones lay down on her stomach, her head turned to follow him - and to keep an eye on the suspect. She also took the chance to properly "have Booth's back." Angela would never forgive her if she didn't recount every single detail in extreme precision...


	17. Testify

_Author's Note: I have a plan for V, but would still welcome suggestions on the rest of the letters. _

**Testify**

"So that's it, Caroline. All the evidence you need, all but wrapped up in a big old bow for you, thanks to Bones and her team." 

"I appreciate that, cher, but it's all meaningless without a face to present it. Dr. Brennan, are you prepared to testify to all this?"

"Technically speaking, no."

"I beg your pardon, Dr. Brennan?" Caroline glared at Bones. Booth himself was startled.

"Originally, the word 'testify' meant 'to swear by one's testicles.' As I have no testicles, that term has no meaning to me." 

Caroline cocked an eyebrow at Booth. "Seeley Booth, please tell me she's joking around. And please inform her that when it comes to trials, I have my sense of humor surgically removed and replaced with an extra ass-kicking gland implanted."

"That makes no sense whatsoever. There is no specific bodily organ associated with humor, and there is no such gland as..."

"Bones..." Booth interceded, then turned towards Caroline. "She does have a point there. And it makes me a worry a little about the next time I testify, knowing what's on the line." He got a mischevious twinkle in his eye. "You know, Bones, if it's the word 'testify' that has you hung up, perhaps you could think of it as 'ovarify.'"

Bones grinned. That's very good, Booth! By substituting 'ovary' for testis,' you get a word that both reflects my sex and sounds like 'verify,' which reflects what I will be doing! That's unexpectedly clever for you."

Booth grinned for a second, then glared. "Why, thank you Bones. I... what do you mean, 'unexpectedly?'"

"That's a very scientifically-oriented pun, Booth, and removed from your typical style of humor - which usually revolves around sex, sports, or bodily functions. Oh, and threats of violence. Plus, I didn't need to have it explained to me."

"I'll take that as a compliment, then."

**"Ahem!"** Caroline interrupted. "If you two are done with your little verbal foreplay, I would like to get back to this case. Dr. Brennan, while your digression on the origin of the word might have been entertaining, in the present day and age the word 'testify' has a more general and gender-neutral meaning. Let me ask you again: are you prepared to testify, under penalty of perjury, to all the facts Agent Booth has laid out here?"

"Bones smiled cheerfully. "As the penalties for perjury are significantly greater for me than the threat of castration, I can honestly say that yes, I will testify - or 'ovarify' - to all of this."

Caroline just shook her head. "Cher, are you sure she's the best possible person to put on the stand? Don't you have someone else - someone **human**- we can use?"

Booth shook his head. "You saw her credentials. The defense can't find anyone who can touch her. She's literally written the book on this stuff, and her team's work is unimpeachable."

"You better be right, or I just might bring back that old penalty - just for you."


	18. Unworldly

**Unworldly**

Booth sighed. Life had been so much easier when Bones had been utterly disinterested in politics. But her pregnancy had seriously skewed her priorities. Combine that with a hotly-contested presidential campaign, and it was inevitable that he'd be calling in favors to get them admitted to a debate. He could still hear her words.

"Booth, now that I have a stake in the future, I have a moral obligation to educate myself and do what I can to make the future better for our child. That means that I can not afford to simply ignore politics; I need to use my vote as best I can."

"But Bones, you still haven't figured out whether you're a Democrat or a Republican, so why are you so insistent on seeing the Republican candidates? At this point, it's a crap shoot whether you'd actually vote for any of them."

"President Obama is not facing any significant challengers for renomination, so they only contest for the primary is on the Republican side. Therefore, I have registered as a Republican so I can vote in their primary. I intend to immediately renounce that affiliation the day after the primary."

Booth had to admit that made a certain amount of sense. "OK, I can see that. But what are your key issues?"

"I've been giving it some thought. Since my primary concern is our child, a great many of the ones being discussed simply don't affect me. I am more than wealthy enough that taxation is largely irrelevant, especially in the long-term picture, for me. Likewise, my wealth and employment nullifies the discussion over health care. My main concern about foreign policy is that I am free and safe to travel to wherever my work takes me in the world, and minimizes future genocides. I am largely independent of and indifferent on most social issues. For example, I am pro-choice on the matter of abortion, while I understand that none of these candidates share that belief, so that is irrelevant to me. Besides, I am fully committed to carrying this child. So the main issue for me is economic recovery."

"Huh? I thought you said your wealth insulated you from that kind of thing?"

"On a purely personal basis, yes. But the vast majority of my income is from my books. I need readers who can afford to buy my books, who can afford to buy movie tickets, who can afford to come to signings. Also, my agent informs me that speaking fees have dropped off due to the economic slowdown, and while that is not a significant portion of my income, it still is something I should take into account."

Booth nodded. Bones had obviously done her homework. "So, you're mainly focused on the economy. And where do you stand on that one?"

Bones paused, slightly embarrassed. "I... am still determining my economic philosophy."

Booth couldn't help but smile. "You mean you can't figure it out?"

She turned on him, the frustration obvious on her face. "It just makes no sense! Economics is so dependent on human factors that it might as well be a subset of psychology - and that's not a science at all. I find it infuriating that the Nobel Committee actually deigns to honor it with a Prize just like it was a real science."

"Have you thought about discussing it with Sweets?"

She almost blushed. "I... did consider it. But then I realized that the one objective way to judge a person's economic knowledge would be by how well they applied it. Logically, the best economists would be wealthy ones."

"I can see that."

"But I am the wealthiest person I know, which means that I have a superior grasp of economics over them. Well, excepting Dr. Hodgins, but he inherited his wealth, while I acquired my own. So to seek out economic advice from someone with far less wealth - like Sweets or Cam - would be pointless."

"You know, I bet Angela's father is richer than you and Hodgins put together. But here's the flaw in your theory - you and he both earned your money not through your own economic knowledge, but through creative talent. your 'economic' insight was to find something you're extremely good at, that people would be willing to pay for to appreciate, and then left the actual economic arrangements to experts. So, instead of looking for someone who has made a lot of money, maybe you should talk with people who are experts in managing money? Say, your accountant and financial manager?"

Bones was stunned. "That... is exceptionally well reasoned, Booth. I believe it was my ego that kept me from noticing that much of my wealth is due to the superb work of my financial advisors. They might not have the personal wealth I have, but they have demonstrated a superb practical knowledge of economic matters in their handling of my money. I will make an appointment as soon as possible. Considering my importance to their firm, it shouldn't take more than two weeks to get in."

Booth sighed. "So, does that mean you want to leave?"

"Absolutely not. We're already here, and I know you went to a great deal of effort to secure our admission. The next Lincoln or Roosevelt could be on that stage, and I want to be able to tell our child that we were here to see him - or her."

He settled himself down in the seat next to her. "Yeah, maybe - or maybe the next Franklin Pierce or Rutherford B. Hayes." This was going to be a long night...


	19. Censored

**Vagina Dentata**

"Booth, are you coming to bed soon?"

"Um... I'm gonna stay up a little longer, catch 'Sports Center.' You go to sleep; I'll be along in a bit."

Bones sighed. It had taken her almost a week to pick up on Booth's discomfort and distancing, and a couple of days (and a conversation with Angela) to get her to decide she had to confront the issue. She picked up the remote and switched off the TV."

"Hey, what was that?"

She sat down next to him on the couch. "Booth, it has been ten days since we last had sexual intercourse, or any kind of sexual contact whatsoever. And now you are avoiding coming to bed with me now. I would like an explanation."

Booth squirmed on the couch. "It's just... it's not you, Bones. I'm just not in the mood lately."

A connection suddenly clicked in Bones' head. "I told you not to read that article on sexual myths and horror stories, Booth. I told you that it would likely disturb you."

Booth sighed. "I know that. But some of that imagery... I can't get it out of my that one with the teeth..."

Bones sighed in exasperation. "Booth, you're intimately familiar with female genitalia, and you have never seen any evidence of teeth. Further, you've seen countless females corpses and skeletons. Not only have you never seen any teeth anchored in the pelvic bones, they are completely incapable of articulation - meaning that they can not 'bite down' on anything. Their only movement is to spread, and that's only during pregnancy and childbirth. Yes, the muscles can flex to a certain extent - but you've been nothing of appreciative of that in the past. There is absolutely no way that my vagina can inflict any physical injury on your penis."

"I know that logically, Bones, but that image is still stuck in my subconscious, and it just won't go away."

Bones had run out of options. If telling wasn't doing any good, time to show. She stood up and grabbed Booth's hands. "Come with me, Booth. We're going to get rid of this fixation of yours right now."

BB BB BB BB BB

"So, Booth, are you satisfied now?"

"Yup. No sign of teeth whatsoever. However..."

"What?"

"You've got no teeth down there, but your gums are in terrible shape."

The proceeding and prolonged beating Booth got with the pillow was, he decided, totally worth the almost two weeks he'd spent setting up that punchline.


	20. Wong Fu's

_This one's a bit on the serious side. Sorry, but circumstances demanded it._

**Wong Fu**

"What? Oh, no... oh, geez... OK, thanks. Keep me posted." Booth set the phone down and sat down in shock.

Bones quickly crossed the room and put her arm around his shoulders. "Booth, what's wrong?"

Booth sighed. "Sid died last night."

Bones sat down next to him. "I'm so sorry. And we were just at Wong Fu's last week. What happened?"

"They're not certain. It was sudden. They're thinking a heart attack or stroke." Booth shook his head. "Sid was one of the first people I met when I came to DC. A couple agents took me down there, and he just... took me under his wing, introduced me to the city."

Bones stroked his back. "You know, I don't think I ever once saw one of his menus. You wouldn't let me have one the first time you took me there, and after that... it just seemed part of the culture of the place to not ask for one."

Booth smiled wistfully. "Yeah, I've eaten a lot of Asian cuisine in a lot of places, but if you'd told me that the world's greatest expert would be a big black man with a Jewish name, I'd have laughed in your face. But Sid... he had an amazing gift, didn't he?"

Bone smiled back. "Yes, he did. And he was a good man." She suddenly remembered the one time she'd seen Sid outside of his restaurant. "Remember that Christmas we were all trapped in the lab? Sid was the one who brought Parker to see you. You should call him."

"Yeah, I will... he'll want to know, maybe even go to the services." Booth chuckled. "That could be interesting. I think Sid was a Buddhist. I wonder what a Buddhist funeral is like." He then quickly looked Bones in the eye. "Not now. You can lecture me on Buddhist funeral rites later, I promise. After I call Parker. But first..."

Bones understood. She'd call Angela later, so she could pass the word to the rest of the team, but for now she just sat quietly next to Booth on the couch. Neither spoke for a long time.

_Author's note: Actor and rapper Heavy D, who played Sid Shapiro, the owner of Wong Fu's Chinese Restaurant in the first season of Bones, passed away this week. He was 44._


	21. XRay

**X-Ray**

"Booth, can you take a look at this? I can't quite... what the hell is that!"

Booth, startled, kicked back from the desk and slammed the laptop lid closed. "Nothing!"

"Open that lid, Booth. That looked suspiciously like an X-Ray of a man receiving fellatio." 

"Well, yeah, but I think of that as 'nothing.'" He reluctantly opened the laptop for her inspection. "Jared sent it to me. He thought I'd find it funny."

Booth studied that image. "Booth, that is one of the more appalling things I've ever seen - and you know the sorts of things I've seen."

"Oh, come on, Bones. Yeah, it's tasteless, but is it really that bad?"

"Booth, look at it. You can clearly make out her whole head, and the top of his scrotum."

"Um... yeah, that's the whole point. It wouldn't be fellatio if that wasn't happening."

"And that means that her brain and his testicles were exposed to a very signficant amount of radiation for this image. She could suffer impairment, and he was quite possibly rendered sterile. At the very least, his sperm were damaged at the genetic level."

"Sheesh, you're right. I didn't..."

"Never mind." Bones said, leaning back. "It's a fake."

"Huh? A fake?"

"And not even a good one. Here, look - you can see his pubic and body hair in the image, and hair never shows up on an X-Ray. And if you could pick up his hair, you should be able to see her hair as well. As the skull is clearly a woman's, that would mean that she shaved her head."

"OK, I can see that..."

"Further, the two halves of the image have completely different exposure levels. On On the right, you don't see any bones, just a solid mass. And it's not a screen of any kind - the edge shows the contour of his body perfectly. But on the left side, you can see through most of her skull and neck. If these were taken at the same time, we'd be able to see his pelvis. This is definitely a fake photo."

"I'll tell Jared you said that - while telling him to not send me this kind of crap any more."

"You know, Booth, if you find this sort of thing stimulating..."

"I don't! I don't! I really don't!"

She sighed. "That's a shame. Angela once showed me on the Angelator an MRI of a couple engaging in sexual intercourse, and it was truly fascinating." She caught his eye. "And much safer."

_Author's note: the image referred to above does exist. If you're curious enough, just plug "X-Ray fellatio" into Google Images._


	22. Yearning

**Yearning**

Dr. Temperance Brennan studied the bones laid out on her table. This was where she went when she needed to get her mind off whatever bothered her. This was where she went when she didn't wish to be disturbed or distracted. This is where she could focus all her attention on a single task, and shut out everything else. And fortunately, this was the one task that her employers most valued her performing: examining the bones contained in the vault others insisted on calling "Limbo" and determining everything she could about them - especially the identity of the deceased.

This one would be difficult. Another body from the Civil War era, believed - but not known - to be a soldier, recovered near the Battle of Gettysburg. Complicating matters was that during the course of the battle, both sides had taken the area where the body was found, so he could have been on either side. According to historical records, it was on the fringe of the battle, and on a forested hilltop. It would have been a good perch for a sniper.

A sniper much like Special Agent Booth. When it was clear that Brennan would have to work with him far more closely than she would have liked, she'd done a little digging into his background. She'd hope she'd find something that she could object to, something that she could use to argue for his removal from the assignment, something that would disqualify him from working with the Jeffersonian. But Booth had a sterling record with the Bureau, and a very proud record as an Army sniper, with several combat tours. So that had failed.

Brennan shook her head. Her mind was meandering, and that was disrespectful to the remains before her. She focused once more on the bones.

Male, about 170 centimeters in height. Almost certainly Caucasian. Late 20's in age. No signs of major diseases or disabling injuries - all consistent with a soldier from that war of either side. Significant trauma to the T4 and T5 vertebrae, most likely from a musket ball. The damage was to the interior surfaces, making it apparent that the ball had entered the left shoulder. The ball would have passed through the left lung and heart before striking the spine.

The heart. It was a phenomenal work of engineering, Brennan had to admit. A pump that can go decades - in some cases, well over a century - without failing. The second most critical organ in the body to sustaining life, only behind the brain. The brain, which was the true seat of all thought and emotions, despite the insistence of some in romanticizing the heart. They took the heart's actions in connection with emotional stimuli as the cause, and not the effect of the brain's commands. Some, like a certain infuriating FBI agent who spoke of the "heart" as the source of emotion, of wisdom, of insights.

Brennan sighed. She'd done it again.

Back to the remains. The ball's path indicated two possibilities. One, the shooter had been above the soldier, and shot almost straight down. This was highly unlikely; the trees had not been that tall; had the ball traveled such a short distance, it would not have damaged the vertebrae, but shattered them. No, the shot had come from much farther away. Either the shooter had been in an observation balloon, or the victim had been lying down and facing the shooter. And as historical records made the balloon possibility virtually impossible, he had most likely been lying prone when shot - consistent, again, with a sniper.

Lying prone. Or, possibly, on his back or side. Much like that time she'd returned to her office and found Booth, uninvited and certainly unauthorized, already there. He was stretched out on her couch, waiting for her, casually tossing a baseball up and catching it.

Now there was a possibility. Could the bullet have been shot in the air, and then struck the soldier as it fell to earth? No, that wouldn't work. The angle and velocity were far greater than could be explained by simple ballistics; it had to have been propelled. Some very rough calculations could possibly determine range, but there were far too many variables. She could only approximate the size of the ball, which means she had no way of narrowing down the weapon used, which would determine muzzle velocity. Further, without knowing the pre-death location and posture of the body, she couldn't narrow it down further. No, that was a dead end.

Not that that matters to some people. Some people would just reject rational analysis and continue to pursue pointless avenues of inquiry. Some would insist that their "gut" - yet another anthropomorphization of body parts that have no bearing on such matters. It was especially infuriating when those hunches proved correct. Brennan knew, like any rational person, that such cases are nothing mystical or viscera-related, but most often the brain's way of getting around conscious prejudices and biases, and asserting the truth.

Some people like a certain FBI Special Agent who had not been by the Jeffersonian in over two months.

Brennan jotted down her notes, then put the bones carefully back in the plastic tub. She realized that her brain was telling her something she was was not prepared to accept consciously, and it was irrational to deny it.

She found FBI Agent Seeley Booth aggravating, infuriating, unprofessional, unscientific, arrogant, presumptuous, condescending, overbearing, overprotective...

And she missed him.


	23. Zygote

**Zygote**

Dr. Temperance Brennan stood, frozen in place, as a sudden realization had flooded her.

The night after Vincent Nigel-Murray was murdered, Booth had insisted that she spend the night in his apartment. She had gone along willingly, still in shock, but had retained enough reason and obstinacy to insist that he keep his bed, while she slept on his couch.

But then, at quarter tofive in the morning, her resolve broke. She went into his bedroom and, after a brief, frightening encounter with his finely-honed self-defense instincts that had her staring down the barrel of his pistol, she had crawled into his bed and sobbed. Eventually, they both fell asleep - and woke up in each others' arms.

Which both pretended had been awkward, but both knew it had felt incredibly natural.

That day, while Booth went hunting Jacob Broadsky, she had thrown herself into her work. She knew she couldn't be of any help to Booth in the field, but there had to be something she could do in the lab. And she found it - proof that Broadsky had injured himself during his previous killing. She tried to relay that information to Booth, but was so distraught that the only way she could speak was to resort to her "pure scientist" mode, spelling out her conclusions in the most precise, technical terms she could.

Thank god Jack Hodgins was there. As soon as he realized what she was saying, he condensed it down to the only germane point, in the plainest of English. "Broadsky's right hand is broken." Five simple words, but she hadn't been able to form them. All she could have said was about impact fractures of metacarpals and comparative bone densities - she had been utterly incapable of putting together such a simple sentence. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with gratitude for Jack.

That night, after they had seen Vincent's body off to his parents, it had been only natural for Booth to see her home to her apartment - and stay. When she saw him eying her couch doubtfully, she had gently drawn him into her bedroom and turned down the sheets, then ducked into the bathroom.

A few moments later, she emerged, in her most comfortable pajamas. He had not argued, but stripped down (to his boxers, she presumed, after a quick glance at his clothes draped carefully on the chair) and climbed into the bed. Bones crossed to the door of her bedroom and turned off the light - and then slipped under the sheets next to him and wrapped herself around him, resting her head on his chest.

They talked for a while, about nothing of real substance, just enjoying each other and this new intimacy. And then they stopped talking, and the pajamas and boxers ended up on the floor next to the bed.

They spent most of the next few days in that bed, rejoicing in this new intimacy. Both had been told to take the rest of the week off from work, and reveled in that freedom. They ventured out for food and a quick run to Booth's apartment so he could grab a few changes of clothes and other essentials for a four-day stay. They also went out to eat a few times. At Wong Fu's, Sid had taken a look at the two of them, pronounced "it's about damned time," and brought them a single dish to share. They didn't bother to deny anything and, as usual, the food was both something neither had ever heard of and perfect.

On Monday morning, Bones awoke, eased Booth's arm off her and padded into the bathroom. This little vacation from the real world had been nothing short of amazing. Further, she didn't feel the least bit guilty about being so happy so soon after Vincent's death. More importantly, she didn't feel guilty about how his death had catalyzed the whole transformation of her relationship with Booth. Somehow, she knew - in a completely irrational, illogical, and unreasonable way that Vincent would approve of them finding happiness in the wake of his murder.

She opened her medicine cabinet to remove her razor (she didn't agree with the social pressure for women to shave their legs and armpits, but she had to admit she found it far more aesthetically pleasing, and her partners - especially Booth - had expressed appreciation for her smooth legs) and spotted something that had somehow escaped her notice since the morning before Vincent was killed.

Her birth control pills.

Logically speaking, the risk of unplanned pregnancy was minimal after missing less than a week of pills. Her body had had years to grow accustomed to the effect of the pill, apart from that brief period when she had considered having Booth father a child with her almost two years ago - his brain tumor had thrown that plan right out the window. At that point, she had given up taking the pills, but resumed shortly after his surgery. And she'd kept taking them faithfully ever since - especially in Maluku. While the chance of being sexually assaulted was minimal, she'd not wanted to add the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy as another potential consequence.

But she had been so rattled after seeing Vincent be murdered - and the crashing realization that the bullet that had killed her intern had been intended for Booth - that her whole world had been thrown out of balance. She was sure she'd find she'd also missed several other parts of her regular routines in the aftermath.

But still... she was irritated with herself. The whole routine of the woman being so swept up in emotions that she loses total control of herself and ends up unintentionally pregnant was such a cliche'. It was the stuff of poorly written novels and, presumably, television shows and movies. For someone of such fierce intelligence and emotional control and discipline to put herself at risk of such a contrived and readily avoidable fate was almost laughable. And yet here she was, still basking in the afterglow of several days of completely unprotected sex. Further, her mind immediately updated her mental calendar of her menstrual cycle - and realized that Saturday had been her peak fertility day.

She glanced down at her flat stomach. At... at least a dozen times over the past few days, one of Booth's sperm could have found one of her ova and worked its way inside. That fused structure could have found its way to the wall of her uterus and worked itself in, then started merrily dividing and growing. At this very instant, she could be home to a microscopic cluster of cells that were half her... and half his.

She glanced back at the pill case. No, the odds were extremely poor. Just to be safe, though, she ought to take two pills now and two tomorrow, then start a whole new cycle - she'd very carefully read all the protocols when she'd first decided to use the pill for birth control. Further, considering all the unprotected sex she'd be wise to seek out the "morning-after" pill, just to be certain.

She picked up the pill case, but paused. Instead, she dropped it in the trash can.

Then she placed her hand over her stomach. Back in bed, she heard Booth snort and mumble.

She smiled.


	24. Afterword

**Author's Afterword**

Well, that was far more fun - and far more work - than I anticipated.

This started because I had a three fun ideas for Bones stories, but didn't think I could develop them into more than a couple of paragraphs - and that offended my self-imposed standards. Then I noticed that several other authors were using the "lphabet" theme for drabbles, and realized that was custom-made for my ideas. As I considered that, it struck me that my previous works fit perfectly as the first three parts of an alphabet series - "Dr. Temperance Brennan Engages In Sexual Intercourse" was "Analytical," "The Bones In Bones" was "Bet," and the "Anthropologist in the Miniskirt"/"Special Agent In The Leather Jacket" pairing was "Costumes." At that point, it seemed almost a moral imperative that I write the series.

So I started off, running at first with the theme of "Booth and Bones have embarrassing and/or painful sex-related mishaps." That didn't last too long, as other ideas started emerging. And I still had to work in my three pre-planned ideas.

The first was "Jurisdiction." It struck me a while ago that many of the cases B&B catch have, technically, no business being the responsibility of the FBI - especially as the lead agency. So I had to pick one case of theirs that exemplified that, and had Caroline chew them out as she tried to save that case. "The Bones That Melted" seemed like a good one.

Next, I'm sure you've all noticed how now almost all the characters drive Toyotas, and every now and then just stop the plot and rave how wonderful their new Toyota was. That seemed utterly ripe for satire, but I didn't think I could milk it for what I'd consider a full story.

Finally, I'd been reading and enjoying OrigamiFlower's own alphabet series, and suggested "Vagina Dentata" for her story. When I decided to write my own, I begged her to let me have it back, just so I could recycle one of the more tasteless dirty jokes I remembered from my misspent youth.

Finally, fate itself took a hand in this story. I was kicking around several ideas for "W," and none of them really grabbed me - and then I heard that Heavy D had died. Heavy D, the rapper and actor who had portrayed Sid Shapiro, the owner of Wong Fu's Chinese Restaurant, in the first season. I've read several other fanfics where the characters react to the death of a character when that character's actor dies, and it seemed fitting somehow.

Anyway, a couple of you noticed that I had two chapters that were connected ("Nudity" and "Sand"), and suggested/asked that I develop them into a full story. That got me thinking, and I have about half the story already written in my head - as well as a title. I'm going to see about getting those words out of my head and on to the screen, and should start publishing in a day or two.

Thanks again for all who read, subscribed, and especially reviewed and commented. It's the feedback that makes it all worthwhile.


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